


Revolver

by Mellorine



Series: Mafia AU Verse [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Mafia AU, Other, Psychiatric Abuse, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellorine/pseuds/Mellorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sum total of my Whirl/Rung mafia AU drabbles, collected here for your ease and pleasure.</p>
<p>Will probably be added to in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revolver

**Author's Note:**

> Please direct all blame to moyaofthemist and theshriekingsisterhood, my wonderful ~~enablers~~ benefactors.

Anonymous asked: whirl and rung, mafia au, please and thank you.

 

"What? You’re fraggin’ kidding me, look at that guy, I’d knock him over if I blow my fans too hard. And the frag’s he doin’ now? Is that a toy? He’s putting together a toy. You’re makin’ me work with an actual sparkling."

"You don’t want the job? Fine, got lots of guys just waiting for this chance. You know the way out."

"Hey, woah, no need to get your circuits crossed, look, I’m goin’ over, I’m talkin’ to him. Fraggin’ stick-up-yer-aft clutch munchin’ valve licker… Hey, eyebrows! Looks like it’s you and me! Ready to take a ride on the whirlybird?”

 

* * *

 

 

theshriekingsisterhood asked: i beg of thee: write a continuation of that mafia au whirl and rung fic bc i need to see them as hapless crime buddies more than i need air.

 

Whirl clamped down on his vents as he snuck down the hall. : _Rung.Rung, you hear me?_ : he commed, but no reply. Still no reply. He’d fragged it all up. He’d fragged it all up  _massively_ , and if Rung even wanted to look at him after this, he’d eat his own tail rotors.

Frag it all to the pit, he’d happily eat his own tail rotors if he could just find Rung, and get him out. 

On the one servo, it had only been two days since Whirl arrived late to their job only to find Rung missing, but on the other servo, it had been  _two fragging days_. Rung was definitely fine though. Anyone’d take one look at his nerdy little glasses and they’d be falling over themselves trying not to harm a single wire on his frame.

Yeah. Rung was definitely fine. Frag, he’d probably show up, all heroic, and there’d be Rung, surrounded by goons, getting ‘em to talk about their  _feelings_.

Laughter echoed from further down the hall, and Whirl darted into a side room. He watched from a crack in the door, optic narrowed to a bare slit, as three heavy groundframes tromped past. They turned the corner, and he slipped back out into the hall.

_That’s right, keep laughing. I’ll give you somethin’ to laugh about, shove your fraggin’ servos so far down your throats you’ll choke on your laughter, stupid gear-stripping, wheelgrinding cog suckers_. Whirl turned the corner. A guard stood next to a door, engrossed in his datapad.  _Bingo._

“Hey buddy, was wonderin’ if you could give me some directions.” Whirl strutted up.

“Huh?” the guard said, and Whirl wrapped his pincers around his throat and slammed him against the wall.

The guard twitched. Whirl slammed him against the wall again.

And a third time.

He dropped the guard and kicked open the door. “Honey, I’m home,” he sang, trailing off as his optic adjusted to the dark.

The first thing he noticed was the light glancing off a pile of scrap in the corner. “What the…” He cocked his head, confused. This was supposed to be the place. All his leads had led  _right here,_ and for what? Fraggin’ nothing?

He snarled and turned to go, then froze as a cough echoed through the room.

He slowly turned back around.

Oh. Oh,  _frag_ him  _sideways_ , the room wasn’t empty.

The pile of scrap in the corner resolved itself into the form of Rung. A battered shackle connected him to the wall from where he lay, curled up.

“Oh scrap, oh frag.” Whirl scrambled over to Rung.  _Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead._

He reached out tentatively laid a claw on Rung’s shoulder. Rung stirred, and he snatched it back. “You awake? You with me?”

Rung onlined his optics and peered up at Whirl. His glasses were missing, and a thin trickle of energon marked where a glass shard had punctured his facial plating.

“Oh, hello,” he said groggily.

“What that’s all you got? Just a ‘hello’ for your brave rescuer?” Whirl focused on the manacle, trying to ignore the marks of violence on Rung’s frame. Bent plating. Twisted antenna. Rung tried to hide it under his other fingers, but Whirl noticed his thumb had been ripped clean off.  _Pit-damned fraggers. Should have killed them all. Should have rounded up everyone I knew, busted in here and wiped ‘em off the face of the fraggin’ planet._

“Sorry I’m late.” Whirl yanked at the chain, but it was bolted fast to the wall.

“Just,” Rung winced as the shackle chafed his wrist, “check your chronometer next time, all right?”

Whirl glared at the manacle. Stupid fiddly thing. He’d never pry it open with his useless fraggin’ claws. He turned and kicked at where it attached to the wall until it fell apart. “Mine’s broken.”

“Oh.” Rung fell silent. “Well then, it couldn’t be helped, could it?”

Whirl narrowed his optic at Rung. Rung held his gaze, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, okay,” Whirl finally said.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here. What say we go hit up the Doc, then check out Swerve’s speakeasy, yeah?”

Rung smiled up at him. “That sounds nice.”

Whirl scooped him up and brought his guns online. “Best cover your audials, tiny. It might get a little loud.”

 

* * *

 

 

"See, me, I’m just not that imaginative a guy. I like to stick with the classics. Might gouge out your optics, might poke around in your fiddly bits. Heard the guys talkin’ about this turborat thing, might give that a try. But you see my partner here? Rung, say hi."

"Um, Hello."

"Now Rung here, he don’t do things in the usual way. He’s the imaginative one. The brains of our little partnership. He likes to talk to a guy, see what makes ‘im tick. You go with me, we’ll probably be outta here in, oh, coupla hours. Maybe more. Maybe less. With Rung, well, who knows?

"So what’ll it be? The easy way, the hard way, or the  _fun_  way?”

 

* * *

 

 

Anonymous asked: ok now i'm seriously curious as to how rung ended up in the mafia.

 

"Howza cute little guy like you end up workin’ with a bunch a’ lousy fraggers like us anyway?" Whirl waved his drink around, splashing a good portion of it on himself. "C’mon, doc, spill the beans."

Rung smiled. He considered telling him. About his old psychiatric career. His colleagues, Froid and Trepan. The first time he’d been invited to sit in on a session at the New Institute. How he’d oohed and aahed along with everyone else in the room as some poor soul’s self was stripped away, memory by memory. How he’d found himself, again and again, signing off on the destruction of mech after mech. It was for their own good, everyone said. And he’d believed it. He’d seen the science behind it. But what good was the science of it when he watched someone’s optics trickle down their face as they cried their memories away? When he saw someone’s delicate, beautiful hands replaced with things meant to rend and tear? So he’d left. And, as it always manages to do, life had followed him, down, down, down. Until now.

Rung smiled up at Whirl’s single optic. “Oh,” he said, “it’s a long story.”

 

* * *

 

 

theshriekingsisterhood asked: [...] rung and whirl bond and have fun torturing the scrap out of someone who wronged them

 

"Just walk over to the other side of the room. You can do that for me, can’t you?"

The mech sobbed and began dragging his chassis across the floor. One of his legs had been snapped off at the knee, and the other hung limply, dribbling energon. Inch by tortured inch, he clawed his way over, smiling weakly up at Rung when he finally reached his goal.

"Hmm." Rung frowned. "I’m not sure you’re taking this seriously enough. Whirl, what do you think?"

"Yeah, it’s like the guy doesn’t even  _wanna_  leave.” Whirl leaned down and the mech flinched away.

"Well, I suppose I’ve done all I can do here," Rung shrugged. "Maybe he’ll be more responsive when it comes to your methods."

 

* * *

 

 

Whirl onlined with an uneasy feeling squirming through his spark. He was halfway off the berth, grabbing for his gun, when he realized it wasn’t that something was there, but rather that something was missing.

"Rung?" he called out. "You there?"

He poked his head out into the hallway. Frag. Frag him in the fraggin’  _optic_ , Rung had  _told_ him people were after him, and now he disappears in the middle of the fraggin’ night and -

Calm. Practice those ventilation exercises Rung had been so keen to show him. Good times, that. Rung on his lap, in, out, in, out -

_Focus, dumbaft._

A clang from the floor’s shared washracks had him pressing his audial up against the door. Yeah, someone was definitely in there.

"Rung? That you? Just, uh, shriek like a little sparking if it ain’t you, I’m bustin’ in."

The washrack door crashed open under Whirl’s pede and he stumbled in after it. Oh thank frag, it  _was_ Rung. He was about one rat runnin’ cryin’ to the building super from getting the both of them kicked out, so that was one less mech he had to “persuade” to keep his damn trap shut. 

"Rung! Whatchya doin’, ya near about gave me a spark attack, I woke up and you was gone," he trailed off as Rung didn’t move from his position curled up against the wall. "Aw, babe, what’s wrong?" He tapped awkwardly at the other’s shoulder, and settled for snuggling up next to him. "Bad defrag? Bad energon? I told Swerve if he started waterin’ down the goods again I’d kill ‘im."

Rung’s ventilations hitched in something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “Oh jeez, Rung, c’mon talk to me. What’s up?”

Whirl rested his helm on Rung’s shoulder and Rung took a shuddering vent. “I,” he said, barely on the edge of hearing, “I promised I wouldn’t. Not ever again. I made a promise to myself.”

Well that was…cryptic. Whirl nuzzled against Rung’s face. “Promised what? I know you, you always do your best. Most enterprisin’ little guy I ever seen. Don’t go beatin’ yourself up over whatever this is.”

"You don’t -," Rung buried his face in his servos. "I made him follow my orders, I praised him, I treated him like scrap, he  _smiled_  at me Whirl, oh  _Primus._ ”

"What?  _That_ guy? That’s what yer beatin’ yourself up over?” Whirl laughed. “Rung, that guy was garbage. He deserved ever bit of it. More, probably, I dunno. You need me to go over the list? All that nasty scrap he did?”

"No." Rung curled up into a tiny ball. 

"Aw, c’mon. Back to bed with you. A good night’s recharge’ll set ya straight. We can get up early, go for a walk. That last gig paid all right, so we can splurge on breakfast if you want." Whirl scooped him up and headed back to their room. "You know I love ya no matter what you do, right?"

Rung mumbled something and nestled deeper into Whirl’s arms.

 

* * *

 

 

theshriekingsisterhood asked: it would be absolutely phenomenal if u could write a mafia au drabble for rung breaking whirl out of jail (it would be great payback for saving him from those thugs that beat him to scrap in the other fic).

 

"Got yer shrink here to see you." The guard unlocked Whirl’s cell door with a muttered, "not that it’ll do much good." He nodded to the small mech behind him. "You got 15 breems. Security’s got this place covered to th’ pit ‘n back, so don’t you worry your pretty little wheels."

The cell door clanged shut, and Whirl lurched to his feet. “So, here to crack my processor open? Want me to tell you how I fragged my own motherboard?”

"Mmmm, maybe later," Rung stepped out of the gloom into the harsh light of the cell, and Whirl’s spark flip-flopped in his chest. "I brought you a present," he said, drawing a gun from his sub-space.

"Oh, babe, you know just what to say." Whirl ran a claw down Rung’s back, optic curving in a smile as Rung shivered. "You sure we don’t got enough time to make this a  _conjugal visit_?”

 

* * *

 

 

"You sure we don’t got enough time to make this a  _conjugal visit_?”

“The guard said we only had 15 breems,” Rung reached up to stroke the side of Whirl’s helm. “You sure that’s enough time?”

“ ‘Zat a trick question?” Whirl laid back down on the cell berth, dragging Rung down on top of him.

Rung straddled his waist. “I come all the way here to break you out, and you’d leave me unsatisfied? Whirl, I never knew you could be so cruel. You’ve been gone for  _days._ ”He leaned down to whisper in Whirl’s audial. “I’ve been having to take care of  _myself_.”

Whirl’s engine roared and his panel slid aside, his spike pressurizing and nudging up between Rung’s legs. “Let’s not keep ya waitin’ then.”

Rung moaned as he sank down on Whirl’s spike, his vocalizer hitching as he reached the hilt.

“ _Ohhh_ , frag yeah,” Whirl groaned. “Remind me not to get arrested again, I missed you so much.”

“Don’t,  _nnn,_  get arrested again,” Rung said and rose back up the full length.

“I’ll do my,  _uhnnn_ , my best.” Whirl grabbed Rung by the hips and drove back into his wet valve.

“ _Ah!”_ Rung cried out and clutched at Whirl’s chest. His calipers rhythmically massaged Whirl’s spike, and he rocked his hips as Whirl thrust up into him.

“ _Hhhaa,_  I missed this, I missed  _you_ ,  _frag me_ , you feel  _so_ good,  _Rung_ ,” Whirl babbled as Rung ground down on his spike.

The cell door clanged open, admitting the guard. “All right, yer 15 breems are -  _holy Primus!”_

“Uhh,” Whirl stalled.“It’s not what it looks like?” _  
_

Rung leaned over, grabbed Whirl’s gun off the ground, shot the guard, and sank back down on Whirl’s spike, all in one fluid movement. “Did I tell you you could stop?”

Whirl grinned, and thrust up into Rung. “No, sir.”

 


End file.
